You turn around and you're old ...
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Old |
During the course of the festivities I found myself seated at my workstation in it's new location and happened to take a random gander at the one of the several mirrors attached to various walls in my vicinity.
Lo and behold, but what did I see. This white haired jelly belly santa claus in civies looking fellow all stout and pout pecking away at that luxury backlit keyboard like they weren't going to make any more of them.
The striking clarity of the moment involved how old I appeared to myself inasmuch as "you're as old as you feel" so they say ... I never felt too old until that first gaze into the codger I have become.
The irony surrounds not realizing it's happening while it's going on — THEN the personal shock value of that particular destination STILL remains. Alas, I am old. "Middle aged", hell. Real old. It was all of a sudden I turned around and I'm old. Older than dirt. Older than paper. Older than matches. Older than fire.
Shoot. I remember when I was the youngest spring chicken in the office — for what seemed like years and years on end.
Where did all the years go?